


The Boy With the Book

by lexeetee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-27
Updated: 2012-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-10 20:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexeetee/pseuds/lexeetee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is just a normal boy until he meets the strange and precocious Sherlock Holmes. Child!John Child!Sherlock AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy With the Book

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic a while ago and it's also on ff.net, but I figured it would be good to get it out there here too.  
> :)

“John dear, you go play with the other kids in the daycare room, Mummy has to go upstairs and work for a few hours.”

“Do I have to?” John asked, peeking from behind his mother’s leg.

“Yes dear. This is Mummy’s first day here. This job is very important, and she wants to make a good impression.”

“What’s a apression, Mummy?”

Amelie knelt in front of her son. “An impression is the image a person you meet has of you, the way they think of you, and it’s important to make sure that when you meet new people, the impression they have of you is a good one,” she looked into the young boy’s eyes and saw confusion. A soft smile crossed her face, her love for her son displayed across her delicate features. “So now Mummy needs you to be a good boy, and stay down here while I go work.”

John sighed, then looked up at his mother and nodded. 

“I love you lots and lots,” she sang, then gave him a warm hug.

“Lots and lots,” he replied before running towards the other children.

The daycare room was large and brightly colored, with toys in neat piles and a large television equipped with a gaming system in one corner. Most working in the large corporation could afford private daycare, and those who sent their children to the company daycare were few and far between. That left about a few dozen children from about two to nine years old in the room. In a few weeks, the older children would be returning to school, and this number would dwindle.

John surveyed the room with inquisitive eyes. A group of four or five bigger kids dominated the area with the TV, and seemed to be playing some kind of racing game. Across the room, small children were finger painting on easels, and two women were rushing around supervising. One of these women approached John, who eyed her warily.

“And what’s your name, cutie pie?” she asked.

“I’m John,” he replied, his voice small.

“Well John, it’s very nice to meet you,” she said, trying to make the boy feel more at ease. “My name’s Sarah, and I think we’re going to be great friends!” 

John smiled at her, happy to have someone notice him.

A few hours passed uneventfully. John elected to stay with Sarah and the younger children, intimidated by the big kids across the room. After lunchtime Sarah and the other women, who John had learned was called Heather, announced it was time to venture across the street to a nearby park. As John walked out of the building, hands linked with Sarah, he saw Heather drag a boy about his age along behind her as she strode towards the park, a book clutched in the boy’s tiny hand. 

John had not noticed this boy when in the daycare room, and he wondered where he could possibly have come from. The boy was a few inches taller than John, lanky, and had dark hair and the strangest eyes John had ever seen. They were a color he could not name, somewhere between blue and green and grey, and for a moment they connected with his as the boy looked back at the building longingly, as if being outside was a fate worse then death. 

As soon as they arrived at the park, John saw the boy run from Heather and disappear, out of sight. John rushed toward the swings, and the other children dispersed throughout the large play structure. Sarah and Heather were sitting on a bench at one side of the park, conversing while occasionally glancing at the children. After a while on the swings, John became bored and wandered up to the structure, he climbed a ladder and was working up the courage to slide down the daunting twirly slide when he heard voices below him.

“Freak! Oh you think you’re so great just because your dad runs the business. Well you’re not! You’re just a little freak with no friends.”

John quietly looked over the edge of the structure and saw the group of bigger kids below surrounding the boy with the book, obscured from the chaperones’ sight by the slide and rest of the structure. The kids were harassing him, calling him names while he sat there, legs crossed, casually flipping through the pages of his book. A particularly mean looking boy snatched the book from his hands, screamed “Freak!” and started to run away. 

Without thinking, John sprung into action, quickly slid down the treacherous slide that he had been scared of before, and chased after the boy. He caught up to him easily, grabbed the book from him, and with as much power as a boy his size could muster yelled “Hey! That’s not yours,” before stomping over to where the rest of the kids were still poking fun at the boy, and shouted “You all leave him alone! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size!”

The group of kids stood in shock for a few seconds, then started laughing and returned to terrorizing the boy. 

John lowered his voice “I’ll tell, I swear I will.”

The magic words had been said, and the group of kids walked away, grumbling. John released a sigh of relief and then turned towards the boy, who was now looking at him with interest. 

“Why did you do that?” the boy inquired, genuinely confused.

“They were being mean to you,” John replied simply, and handed the book back to its owner. 

“I was fine on my own, I did not need your assistance,” the boy muttered, taking the book from John’s outstretched hand, obviously uncomfortable with the help he had received.

“That’s not how it looked to me.”

“Well thank you for you help. Now if you will excuse me, I would like to return to my book.”

The boy hid behind his book, thinking John would walk away. A few minutes later, he looked up to see John sitting in front of him, looking at him expectantly.

“Whatcha reading?” John asked.

“Harry Potter. It is amusing but not very realistic.”

This boy talks funny. John thought to himself.

“I can’t read yet. I wanted to start learning but Mummy’s been too busy to teach me so I’m just going to learn when school starts. How’d you learn?”

“I taught myself.”

“How old are you?”

“Six.”

“One year older than me! Have you been in school for a year already?”

“Yes.”

“Wow that’s great! I can’t wait to start school. It’s going to be so exciting, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.”

“I’m John by the way.”

“Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes.”

“That’s a funny name.”

Sherlock winced, ready for the teasing that was sure to follow.

“I like it.” 

Sherlock stood up, glared at John, and demanded to know “Why are you talking to me?!”

“I dunno...”

“No one talks to me!”

“Well I am.”

“I can see that, but why?”

“I just want to!”

“No one ever has before.”

“Well I am now!”

Sherlock slumped to the ground, confused by the boy that kept talking to him. 

“You’re the son of the new office assistant.” He said, resigned to the fact that this boy was not leaving. It wasn’t a question.

“How did you know?” John wanted to know.

“Well you have never been here before, which I know from the one day a week my father forces me to come in order to be ‘socialized’, because the other children looked at you like they did not know you, and because of the encounter I witnessed at the beginning of the day between you and Sarah. My father has hired three new employees, which I learned from listening in on his meetings, one of which is a man who is a salesman, one is a transfer manager from high in the company in another branch, and the other is an office assistant. You have been mentioning your mother and not your father so I can make the leap that she is the one with the job, and that eliminates the salesman. Your clothes are hand-me-down’s from your brother, which I know because the tag in the back says Harry and they are obviously too big for you, so your family doesn’t have enough money for it to be the transfer manager, so that leaves the office assistant.”

John sat stunned with disbelief. “Wow that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard. You’re like the smartest person I’ve ever met!”

A smile spread across Sherlock’s face. “That’s not what people usually say.”

“What do they say?”

“Go away poophead.”

Sherlock and John laughed, and for the rest of the day were inseparable. Sherlock basked in the attention John was giving him, obviously not used to having someone who liked him, or even talked to him. John was in awe of the precocious boy, and when the day came to a close they were both reluctant to leave.

After they said their goodbyes, John ran to his mom,

“Mummy, mummy, did you make a good impression like you wanted to?” He inquired.

“Yes honey, I think I really did.”

“Good, I think I might have too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)  
> Also, tell me if there are any errors with grammar or anything, cause there probably are


End file.
